


losing my religion

by asphaltworld



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Flimsy Grasp on Catholicism, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:43:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphaltworld/pseuds/asphaltworld
Summary: or, Mac Tries to Convert DennisWhy does Mac do what he does? Well, why does anyone do anything?("Dennis" is the answer to that question at least half the time.)





	losing my religion

**Author's Note:**

> "trying to keep up with you  
> and I don't know if I can do it  
> oh no, I've said too much  
> i haven't said enough"  
> (god bless whoever made that LMR macdennis fanvid on youtube)
> 
> Despite growing up in an ostensibly Catholic household, my understanding of Catholic traditions is pretty flimsy. I'm glad Mac doesn't know his shit either-- I can really get into his character. One thing I do understand well is how even half-understood Catholicism can lead to lifetimes of guilt and shame. Woo!

Being tough is really the only way for him to be cool, as poor as he is. Yeah, Carl, my sneakers are dirty and my dad's in jail, but I can beat your ass. Eat it, bozo. So Mac works hard on that.

As he grows up, his line of defense evolves into, maybe I don't have a cool car, but I supply your drugs, dipshit-- and what's more badass than that? After he turns the others in to the principal, he's the only dealer left, and that automatically makes him the biggest badass at school. It only follows that he'd hang out with other badasses. Like Pete, and Charlie, and the rest of Freight Train. Dennis, the kid who pays too much for pre-rolled joints Mac cuts with oregano, is a little fruity, but he has money to burn and his dad’s fridge is always stocked with good beer, so whatever.

It doesn’t matter if Dennis has girly legs, or spends too much time on his hair, because he has a girlfriend, and a car, and he bangs that girlfriend in the car. That’s all he needs to do to prove he’s not a queer. It makes Mac more comfortable around him. Otherwise, he might swear that Dennis looks at him too often, or touches him for too long. But that’s just what best friends do. Mac confronted him about it, once, crossfaded in Dennis’s basement with the pool table and the television. Dennis said, “That’s just what best friends do. You wouldn’t know because you’ve never had a real best friend before.” Satisfied, he let his head rest back on Dennis’s shoulder.

When Dennis finally gets out of college, bent on buying a bar, he turns to Mac. And why wouldn't he? A bar needs a bouncer to keep people in line. Mac's sweet eagle tattoo shows not only is he not afraid of pain, like from needles and shit, but he has the strength of real American values to back him up. He cuts the sleeves off all his shirts--the shirts Dennis "gets tired of," still acting like a rich priss-- to show it off. He has shirts from places he's never been, from events he never went to, and it makes him look more better-traveled. He likes that. He doesn't know what the Mystery Spot is, for example, but it's all the way in Santa Cruz, California, which is basically Mexico. And it has a sweet logo.

* * *

 They were drunk Saturday night, like usual, when Dennis brought it up.

“Why do you go to the god damned church all the time? There’s no way you can actually believe you’re going to heaven, after all the shit I’ve seen you get up to over the years.”

“Bro,” Mac started, his speech slow and deliberate to make up for his slurring. “I go to confession every week, and the guy in the box tells me how to fix my sins. The most important thing--” He paused to drain his beer. “The most important thing is, staying in touch with Him.”

The two of them were crowded together on the couch. Dennis felt the heat of Mac’s body all along his right side. It was pleasant.

“God doesn’t exist! Or if he does, he certainly doesn’t care what you do. If he was paying any attention, he would’ve stopped like half of it.”

“God loves me, just like my dad loves me, Den. He doesn’t have to tell me for me to know that. I just know.”

Dennis winced. The last few letters that came, the ones he’d thrown out, never mentioned any love. Mac’s dad had in fact said the opposite, last time the two saw each other, and Mac was still waiting for him to tell him otherwise. So Dennis got to the mail first, and he threw out all the disappointing letters. It was better that way. He’d learned this was a federal offense, the last time he did this, for some undeserving girl. But Dennis doesn’t have time for his best friend to go chasing his absentee felon of a father. When it came to Luther, things always got messy, and inconvenient, and Dennis had to bail Mac’s ass out of whatever drug scheme or murder plot his dad dragged him into. Really cuts into his usual schedule.

“Sure, buddy.”

Dennis was drunk enough for his thoughts to click together into actions in a way they never would sober. He absolutely had to prove this point to Mac. God’s not the one you have to worry about, at least.

“Mac.” Dennis ran a hand over Mac’s hair, which was slicked down within an inch of its life. Dennis absolutely hated it, and the way it stayed the same over the years even as the rest of society changed products and hairstyles. It never wavered. Mac was the same-- following after Dennis year after year, leaving beer cans scattered in his wake. “If God really cared, would he let me do this?”

He leaned forward, toward Mac’s eyes, large and brown and clear, even when wasted at three in the morning. He leaned forward and didn’t stop, not till his mouth met Mac’s and his nose was smashed into Mac’s skin and Mac’s stubble rubbed at his face. He tasted like beer more than he tasted like anything else. He made a soft noise into Dennis’s mouth, kissing back for just a moment, and then he seemed to process what was happening. He pulled back and sucked in a gasp. His eyes, which had been so big and felt so safe moments before, looked panicked.

“Den, I don’t want you to go to hell.”

Dennis started to get up after him, but Mac went to his room in their apartment, the door thudding shut behind him-- only barely gentler than a slam.

Dennis stayed up hours after Mac ostensibly went to bed. “Prob’ly sprained his dick, jacking off so hard,” he muttered to the beer bottle in his hand. He was not dwelling, he was absolutely not dwelling on the kiss. It was to prove a point, just like everything else he did. It’s not gay to kiss someone if you don’t mean it. Not on Dennis’s end, at least. Mac is probably gay, but that doesn’t mean dick about Dennis. Dennis bags women left and right. He’s been doing so for as long as he can remember. And he gulped down the rest of his beer, cracked open another one.

* * *

 Dennis woke up to the sound of a sack of potatoes falling to the ground, or something like it. A very large sack. He sat up halfway, looking around his room. Someone was grumbling in the living room. Mac, of course. Dennis listened to him stumble his way across the room to Dennis’s door.

“Deeennis,” Mac called out. He was trying to open the door, but slipping on the handle. Dennis tried to compose himself to his usual alertness. He was still drunk as shit.

Mac finally got the door open and shuffled in gracelessly. Sometimes Dennis wondered what he saw in him, what kept him here with Mac all these years. The guy was a mess.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Mac started. The usual sharpness of his words were softened by the slurring. The effect was that he sounded uncharacteristically contemplative.

“Do you wanna... try that again? Maybe with like less clothes on or something.” Without waiting for Dennis to reply, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He fumbled with the hem of his shirt a few times, trying to pull it off.

His jaw set and he crawled over to Dennis clumsily. His unfocused eyes and inelegant movements-- he’d obviously been drinking in his room after he left Dennis alone.

“God damn it, Mac,” Dennis groaned. He pushed him off the bed. It didn’t take much to throw Mac off-balance. “You’re being gross. Go to bed.”

Mac groaned but after shifting around a little, seemed content on the floor.

“I’ll sleep here tonight, Den,” he said. “Keep you safe.”

_From what,_ Dennis wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut and closed his eyes.

* * *

 It was Sunday morning and Mac had to get to church. He was on the floor in Dennis's room, which is always something of a red flag in terms of how the night went, but no matter how bad his hangover is he's gotta drag himself to the bathroom, slick his hair down and button his shirt to the collar.

He remembers the night before, of course he does. It comes back to him in pieces as he stares at the gross shit under Dennis’s bed, willing his stomach to unknot itself. Laughing, watching Predator, letting Dennis play his lame fucking eighties bands on the CD player... And then a certain wetness around his mouth. Not beer, definitely not beer. It was Dennis. Dennis kissed him. It was weird how much sense that made. In a world like this, where his dad moved countries to avoid him and his karate goes unappreciated, of course Dennis would kiss him. He didn’t know what to think about it so he just filed it away to the same spot he put his Christmas realizations-- the very back of his mind. How he ended up the floor in here after all that was anyone’s guess.

"Mac," Dennis called thickly from his bed. Son of a bitch made Mac sleep on the floor, even though they're both straight so like, nothing gay would ever happen if they passed out together anyway. Kiss or no kiss.

"What, dude?"

"Why d'you have to go to this shit, again? You could stay in, watch it on the damn TV. That's what Bonnie does," he said. Unspoken is the underlying plea for Mac to stay in, with Dennis.

"I gotta talk to God this week, Den. Can’t lose touch. What if He forgets about me?"

Mac's very sensible response has clearly shut Dennis down-- he just laid back in his bed, covering his face with his arm. Finally. Mac can get moving.

* * *

 The priest stared at Mac. "I don't know if I'm following you here, to be honest."

"It's just, God does so much for me, I want Dennis to understand it. I want God to do things for him, too. Dennis is important to me, I want him to be taken care of. I just want God to fill him up every day, the way God fills me up," Mac babbled.

"Son, you can't perform a conversion on someone without their knowledge."

"Really? But man, nothing would get to Dennis as much as me being able to say, guess what? You're a Christian now! Bam, you're baptized! Jesus has saved you, bitch!" Mac's voice pitched up, the way it did when he got too excited.

“I mean, dude, it would really improve attendance if you could get him in here, probably. His bone structure is perfect. He looks like all the statues you guys have in here. He’d fit right in.”

"Ah.” The man seemed to be having some kind of realization. He cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. ”Have you tried talking to Dennis about how you feel?" he asked.

"I tell him about the word of the Lord every day--"

"Does he know how much this means to you? How much you care about him?" The priest gave him a look like there was something he should be picking up on.

"I told him I don't want him to go to hell."

"Is that all?"

"Uh, yeah, what else is there? What could be more important than eternal salvation?"

“Honesty is really the best policy,” the priest began. “Telling Dennis how much you care about him is the best way to make sure he knows that. Maybe sneaking around trying to trick him into doing things isn’t a way to do that.”

Mac raised his eyebrows. “So, I just wanna get this straight, you’re not helping me with this long-distance baptism?”

The priest sighed. “No.”

“Alright.” Mac clapped his hands together, talking more to himself than the priest. “Plan B.”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m done with you. I’m on to the next thing.”

* * *

 Mac had a glass vial in his pocket, from when Charlie was doing all that shit with chemistry and science. He was in line to enter the church for Sunday mass, to dab holy water on his hand and then in the points of a cross. Mac was going to steal holy water. Stealing is a sin, technically, but technically the entire goddamn world is God’s house and so carrying a few drops of holy water from one room of God’s house to another isn’t really stealing, and anyway it’s for a good cause. Didn’t Jesus steal to support his followers, or something? He must have.

Mac’s turn in line came, and he fumbled for his vial. The pocket inside his nicer tan jacket has a torn lining, so sometimes things just sort of float around in there. Finally he pulls it out, dipping it into the basin. The man standing by the door ushering people in did a double take.

“Sir!” Here we go, Mac thought. “Sir, you can’t take that. We need this water.”

Mac capped it, pocketed it, and ran for it. He wouldn’t be able to go back there, but then it was all the way on the other side of the city from the bar. 

* * *

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mac said to himself, leafing through the pamphlet the priest from the first church had given him. He was holed up in the grimy back office, gathering his thoughts for the baptism and the argument that would definitely follow.

Dennis entered the bar around noon, the same time as always. Mac was missing from the apartment that morning-- he usually caught a ride with Dennis. Probably up to some bullshit scheme, Dennis thought.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blur of motion, and then a wetness at the back of his head--

"What in the hell are you _sprinkling_ on me?" he yelped, undignified, sure that this was some kind of unpleasant fluid that would drip onto his crisp white shirt and stain permanently.

Mac grabbed his wrist, pulling Dennis’s hand along in the sign of the cross for him.

"In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, Amen" he mutters, touching Dennis’s hand to Dennis’s lips gently. "Sorry, man, this is for your own good."

"What in God's name did you just do?"

"Well, I just baptized you." Mac paused. "Kind of. They wouldn't really give me instructions on how to do it, so I... borrowed some holy water-- they didn't like that-- and now I'm doing the motions people do when they enter the church. It's probably pretty much the same thing."

“Did I _ask_ to be baptized?” Dennis closed his eyes, breathing in. Whenever he wants to scream at Mac, he tries this. It cuts down their arguments by about half, Dennis figures. Never let it be said that he doesn’t try. “I don’t want anything to do with your religious obsessions.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah, I know. But I’m supposed to be your badass, takes-no-shit _bouncer,_ Den!”  And roommate, best friend, lifelong obsession, but Mac sticks to the job title on his paychecks. “I protect you, and-- and our bar. Having God on your side is like, the ultimate protection.”

“Mac,” Dennis says, as fondly as he is capable, “I have never in my life depended on your ability to be a badass.” When he sees Mac getting ready to list off events to prove him wrong, he continues hurriedly. “And I’ve kept you around anyway.”

“It’s just.” Mac looked embarrassed. “This is one of the most beautiful things in my life. I spend all my time with Charlie, he’s always crawling around in dumpsters and shit, Frank’s taking a vacation from his corporate life to roll around in squalor. And have you seen Dee? She wouldn’t recognize beauty if it slapped her in the face.”

Dennis nodded. Dee has shit taste, and everybody knows it.

“But you... you do your hair good, and you moisturize, and you care about beautiful things! This is like that. You drink from a fancy cup, and you sit in a room with stained glass, looking at the beautiful works of art while an old guy goes on and on about God and His awesome legions of angels. I mean, it’s the closest you can get to a museum in this part of Philly.”

Dennis knows otherwise, actually, there’s an entire museum district not too far north of the bar. He took field trips there in elementary school. Mac probably skipped class those days.

Dennis sighed.

“Mac... Fine. Okay. Thank you. Now if the Rapture happens I can follow you up to the pearly gates, I guess.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice, not even for Mac.

Mac’s posture relaxed.

“Oh, thank God, bro, acceptance is like the most important part of this thing! Now you’re really saved.”

Dennis really, truly thinks that Mac’s half-hearted obsession with half-remembered God-type shit is a nuisance.

But seeing Mac’s smile and relief at him acknowledging it is worth the inconvenience. 

* * *

 

Mac was knocked the fuck out, sprawled on the couch, changed into one of his more threadbare sleeveless t-shirts that was relegated to sleepwear. He’d washed all the stupid gel out of his hair and it made him look younger. Like a different person, almost. One with better taste. Dennis touched a hand to his hair, sitting down next to him on the couch. Before he could overthink it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Mac’s forehead. Mac stirred beneath him and opened his eyes partway.

“Did you just kiss me, bro?” Mac muttered, blearily.

“Go back to sleep,” Dennis said.

Mac sat up.

“You did! You did just kiss me!” he yelled, pointing a finger at Dennis. He seemed more surprised than angry. His voice was pretty toneless, just loud.

“It was a Christian greeting,” Dennis said snidely. “I was playing priest. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“What the hell...” Mac said, sitting up. There was fear in his voice.

“I mean, you just baptized me, didn’t you? Isn’t that insurance against this kind of thing? Like, God can’t come down and do the whole smiting thing?”

“Forget God, Den. It’s... gross.”

Dennis’s patience was wearing thin. It hadn’t been gross when Mac crawled drunkenly into his room at the end of the night to try it again. 

“Okay. Okay. See you later, Mac.” He slipped out the door and went to go call Marie, or Nicola, or Amanda. Anyone but Mac.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! this is my very first fic ever. i decided get into fandoms at the age of 22 during my final term in college as i write my senior paper. smart of me!  
> I have roughly another chapter planned out, but that may change. Let's hope I can stay motivated to finish chapter two before I start thinking bigger!


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